High in the Andes, Dreamers Have Erected Various Odes to Ski Redemption
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High in the Andes, dreamers have erected various odes to ski redemption. In Chile’s wine country, that means linking them with odes to consumption. TEXT LESLIE ANTHONY “THE STORY OF SKI ARPA IS A STORY OF FAILURE,” announces Toni Sponar, a spry, 78-year-old erstwhile Austrian who has variously traced an arc through the ski world as instructor, guide, manager and consultant. It isn’t exactly what guests want to hear before making their first run at South America’s only catskiing operation, but it’s a backhanded truth that brings both charm and edge to one of the world’s wildest ski experiences. In 1981, after overseeing building of the Penitentes Ski Area in Argen- tina, Toni bought land overlooking Chile’s Aconcagua Valley and poured his life savings into a ski dream. He built a two-story lodge on a west- facing bench and installed a small surface tow on an adjacent slope, only Unlike B.C., this is about as crowded as it gets to see both wiped out in the kind of massive avalanche the high Andes at Valle Nevado heli-skiing. Valle Nevado photo are known for. It was back to the drawing board, back to the bank, and 88 skier skier 89 back to dreaming. One-bitten-twice-shy when it came to infrastructure versus avalanches, Toni started a day-skiing cat operation in 2003, which has grown steadily—despite some devastatingly dry winters—into a one-of-a-kind ad- venture traded in lift-line conversations around the ski world. Ski Apra’s humble base now compris- es two bunker-like refugios built into the hillside below where the lodge once stood. As usual, Toni welcomes today’s group in German, English, Spanish and French. Likewise, affable Anton, Toni’s son and lead guide who also grew up on skis, a distinguished alpine racer at the University of Colorado, when not at Arpa he works for Aspen’s Alpine Guides. Aside from the Sponars, the Arpa crew includes a handful of North American guides that mill outside a bunker pick- eted in über-fat skis, leisurely stirring muddy mugs of instant coffee. There’s none of the vert-crazed go-go-go of High and dry in the Andes? Not when North American cat ops. Good thing, you have a snow-seeking chopper. as our group of Brigid Mander, Sally Bernard/Skier's Cup photo Francklyn, Kristina Schreck and myself are in no shape for hectoring. lance on site to evacuate injured skiers, veteran of adventure which waft the smell of barbecued chorizos and vino tinto. Our previous night in the cosmopoli- events in the middle of nowhere, had opined he found Arpa’s Here we go again. tan capital, Santiago, followed the usual tight-curved, snow-covered road the most difficult he’d ever THOUGH SKIING TONI SPONAR’S DREAM HAS BEEN ANYTHING BUT A FAILURE, script: late, delicious dinner of emblem- driven. Ditto most guests. And indeed the bouncing, swerv- we need to return to Los Andes to spend the night, and that atic Chilean tapas at Liguria, a bustling ing ride had rendered us green, particularly Kristina, who at means getting back on the carnival-ride switchbacks with bistro/bar popular with those who like a one point called for a “breathing break.” But we’d arrived with a bellyful of meat and alcohol. It goes better than expected, kitschy, bohemian atmosphere and fleet stomach contents intact, downed some coffee slurry, and, An- and within an hour we’re in Los Andes, which—given where of entertaining, bow-tied waiters. It also ton’s proclamations notwithstanding, were ready to hit it. we’ve been—seems weirdly urbane; doubly weird when we meant too many pisco sours—the na- Herded into the standing-room boxbed of the cat with folks go back in time by pulling into historic Casa San Regis, an tion’s potent cocktail—and exceptional from New York, Vermont, California, Montreal, and France, we elegant estancia that has stood on the same ground in one Chilean wine, then a midnight stroll begin the upward grind to the 3,740-metre summit. A half- form or another since the late 18th century. through hopping Bella Vista and more hour later, any trace of nausea from the cat’s diesel exhaust A white-coated waiter sparks a blaze in the dining room’s drinks along Calle Constitución. We’d (or the hangover… or the altitude… or the road… or the coffee) large fireplace. It still requires keeping close in order to avoid stumbled back to the Aubrey Hotel, a is vanquished: we click into our skis the chill of the high-ceilinged room. chic converted mansion hard against with a view to the Pacific in front and The outside surroundings, creaking the base of Cerro San Cristobel, the to 6,962-metre Cerro Aconcagua—the parquet floors, empty corridors, histo- prominent park-covered, mid-city rise western hemisphere’s highest peak— ry of military headquarters, and long, that also includes a small zoo. Loung- behind. Around us unfold 4,000-plus saga-like occupation by generations Yes, the Andes are big—and you are very, very small. ing in the Aubrey’s slate courtyard, you Valle Nevado photo acres of terrain; as advertised, it’s of the same family convince Sally and can see giraffe’s heads sailing over the unlike anywhere any of us has ever I there are ghosts. Brian says don’t vegetation. skied. Also as advertised for Septem- laugh, and the waiter nods, describ- All we’d seen this morning, however, ber (Andean spring), it’s an adventure. ing precisely where spirits have been were pink elephants, and been way late A skiff of recent snow has left some seen, and whom they represent. None for the Aubrey’s celebrated breakfast ankle-deep powder, but we’re mostly of us wants to hear, but neither can we and our rendezvous with Brian Pearson, skiing areas that the six-metre aver- On the way to Ski Arpa you can see vineyards in the stop listening. Scared to go to bed, and Aconcagua Valley outside of Los Andes. When you get the unrepentant powderhound escort- age annual snowfall has seen fit to there you can drink the wine. Ornitz photo with locals Brian and Kristina recom- ing us under the auspices of his tour abandon, leaving the windboard, sun mending wine after wine, we drink company, Santiago Adventures. Since crust and punishing sastrugi that characterizes the freeze- far too much again, ending the evening with scotch drunk- arriving from the U.S. in 2003, Brian and thaw central Andes. Still, we manage, ripping huge arcs in enly pilfered from somewhere in the vast hacienda. Brian and partner Sira Berté had beetled up and sun-softened snow in some areas, hacking our way down in Kristina are last standing. down the spine of the Andes developing others. Brigid and Sally are superstars. In the morning, I confess to barely sleeping: every creak unique packages that featured the best After a blue-collar lunch (you bring your own here, and and groan of the floor was amplified into footsteps, the ticks activities (and wine) Chile had to offer— squat on rocks surrounded by pincushion cactus and Guana- of a small heater into scratching at my door. The others fared including Ski Arpa, for which it is now co dung), Anton leads the group to Cornisas, an area of steep- no better. Despite the insulation of massive headphones, exclusive booking agent. ish rock ribs that rule when conditions are right. Today, how- Brigid heard noises and ended up shivering outside Sally’s We’d eventually left the highway, ever, they are wrong—not because of any danger but because door until she was let in. They both look rough. Kristina and navigated the dusty agricultural town the only skiable snow is in a shallow bowl on its northern Brian are too hungover to talk—or care—putting on a brave of Los Andes, and headed up a rutted, edge, where we find a few hard-fought turns before popping face as we leave for Valle Nevado. boulder-strewn road dodging goats, onto the cat road. Our final run is the day’s best, a 15-minute VALLE NEVADO SKI RESORT IS A DREAM OF A DIFFERENT SORT, A chickens and frosty cactus. Brian spun bootpack then sideslip down a corniced ridge before dropping commercial partnership between Chilean and French tales of helping stage the inaugural stop into a funneling run. It’s chutes and powder up top, crust in the interests modeled on the latter’s purpose-built aerie, Les of the 2011 Freeski World Tour in isolat- middle, schmoo in the bottom. But long, long, long—1,000 ver- Arcs. Located innumerable switchbacks above the town of ed Arpa: the driver of a Hummer ambu- tical metres—landing us a five-minute walk from the bunkers, Farellones and the ski areas of El Colorado and La Parva, At Ski Arpa you pull over for lunch wherever you feel like it. Like the bottom of the Ratonera gully. Ornitz photo 90 skier skier 91 it first opened in 1988. In 2001, it became the first Chilean a cruise ship in the sky.) After all, you get drunk fast under a resort with a detachable lift; 2010 saw the launch of a Master blazing sun at 3,000 metres, especially when there’s no end Plan, with two new lifts installed, five new runs opened, a new to the parade of champagne, wine, and pisco.